100 things Not to do at Hogwarts
by spice lily
Summary: Follows the 'real' Story behind what happened in Harry Potter's school years from trolls to betrayals. The defeat of Voldemort will come as the trust in another dies. SSHP slash eventually and time travel. So that means it's kind of AU. Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

Before I start I'd just like to thank my absolutely wonderful beta, Jenny. Thanks!!!!

My name is Serenity Alexis Black. One of my fathers is Sirius Black – and, before you can ask, no, he isn't dead. The other… well, that isn't important right now. I have bright blue eyes and waist-length brown hair. Believe it or not, my best subject is (and probably always will be) Potions… despite the fact that I'm a Gryffindor. That idea was hard for me to grasp, too. By this point, I'm sure you've wondered why I'm telling you all this; the fact is, I have written down the true story of Harry Potter and his – for want of a better word – misadventures.

Now, you're immediate reaction will be "But Jo owns that story", and I am well aware of that. I was there, after all, when Harry gave her the only copy of his autobiography, saying she could change whatever she liked as long as Voldemort died at the end. I asked her not to include me in the books, and was also left out of the film by choice. Anyway, I have written a rather pensive book, in which the memories of Harry, Ron, Hermione and myself have been contained – along with those of several others. Each chapter in the book contains a moral; one such being, 'I have learned to be careful who I make sarcastic remarks about relationships with'. You should also be aware that this story follows the adventures Harry and I had through Hogwarts. Both times. Yes, we went through Hogwarts twice – you'll understand that one later.

(A/N Just before we get to the actual first chapter just wanted to make sure you guys all noticed that I put the disclaimer in the first paragraph. That is the _only_ time you will see it so be warned.)

Chapter 1: Number 138, I will not tell first years that Professor Snape is the voice of God. Year one 

Snape's POV

The sorting was tactless. The Potter boy and the Black girl were both sorted into Gryffindor. How typically like their fathers they both are – in looks, as well. Potter with his chaotic hair and his Spellotaped glasses… he'd undoubtedly need to be the centre of the universe, like his precious father. But there were also Lily's unmistakable emerald eyes. How **she **could go and marry **him** is beyond me. Sitting beside Potter was Black. She looked towards the end of the table and I caught sight of her eyes; they claimed the exact shade of blue as her father's eyes, right down to the spark of happiness and youth I'd see before I was hexed. I had met her before, delivering a potion to her guardian's house – if anyone could call it that; it was just a two bedroom flat, when it came down to it. I sneered as the students were released to their dormitories. Black's eyes met mine and she smirked as though I were a puzzle she longed to solve. I have only ever seen such a look on one other individual: The Dark Lord, Voldemort. The next seven years did not bode well. My blood ran cold as she turned and whispered something to Potter; he looked up and raised an eyebrow looking at her and then me, before the crowd swept him away.

The first Potions class was unfortunately Gryffindor/Slytherin first years I launched into my usual speech when I noticed the Potter boy taking notes and Miss Black looking between him and myself obviously trying to keep from laughing. Sneering at her I stood in front of Potter.

The first Potions class was unfortunately Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. I launched into my usual speech when I noticed the Potter boy taking notes, whilst Miss Black looked between him and myself, obviously trying to keep from laughing. Sneering at her, I strode towards Potter.

"Potter!" He started and looked at me as one would do a God. "What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Granger's hand shot up into the air, and Black stopped snickering and continued to look between Potter and myself, now biting her bottom lip to stifle the new spate of laughter that threatened to burst forth.

"I don't know, sir," he said, still with that worshipful look on his face. Narrowing my eyes, I continued.

"Tut tut – fame clearly isn't everything." I glanced at Granger, whose hand still bobbed demandingly in the air. My sneer increased. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a Bezoar?"

Potter looked confused. "I don't know, sir." This blatant lack of knowledge disgusted me, and I didn't try to hide it.

"Thought you wouldn't even open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Granger's arm appeared to have taken on a life of its own, jumping and waving in the air in a manner that truly was rather vile. "What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

His eyes lost that admiration and narrowed on mine. His answer came low-voiced and surprisingly even-toned. "I don't know, Professor. I think Hermione does though, why don't you ask her?"

Several Gryffindors laughed softly, Black louder than them all combined.

"Sit down," I snapped at Granger, who was now on her feet in her desperation to answer a question. She sat instantly, to my pleasure, out of fear, and the class fell silent, albeit a few chuckles from Black. "And you," I turned, refocusing my wrath on her, "keep quiet unless you have something useful to say. Which, at this time, would be an answer to my questions. Considering your choice in… guardians, you should at least one of them." The laughter died from her face and she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Asphodel and wormwood create the Draught of the Living Death, the strongest sleeping potion known to wizarding kind; a Bezoar comes from the stomach of a goat and serves as an antidote to most poisons. Monkshood and Wolfsbane are easy – they're the same thing, also called aconite." She answered quietly, her gaze never leaving my own. "And another thing, Professor, don't insult uncle Remus. Oh, and before you ask, I told Harry – that's his name, and it wouldn't hurt you to use it – that you were the voice of God. It was a good joke." She shrugged, her voice quiet, her gaze still on mine.

My voice rose as I next addressed the class. "Her answers to my questions were correct, so write them down! As for you, Black, you shall report back here at 8pm sharp. Bring your quill."

Thankfully, the class only had two minor explosions. Longbottom melted the cauldron and burst out in boils, necessitating a trip to the Hospital Wing. His whining gave me a headache. As I walked back into the classroom, my eyes landed on Black, who caught my gaze and subsequently did the most perplexing thing. Holding the correct ingredient – and what appeared to be the correct quantity – she sighed, before lifting the ingredient beside it and dropped it into her cauldron, shielding her face with her sleeve against the explosion.

I watched detachedly as she remained immobile for a moment, until the acids in the potion began to eat their way into her skin. She shrugged out of her outer robes as I stalked over to her. Looking up at me as I vanished the remainder of the potion with a quick **Evanesco**, she sighed and held up her forearm. Her arm was raw, blistered and bleeding all at once. And it was dripping on my shoe.

"Professor, I think I need to go to the hospital wing."

The calm tone of her voice irritated me to no end. She had clearly known what she was doing when she put the frog's tongue into her potion, instead of the chizpurfle carapaces. This girl had potential – one that belonged to a Slytherin, not the spawn of one my childhood tormentors.

"Finish and bottle your potions, and place them on my desk. You should all be finished shortly. Then clean your cauldrons and begin the homework I have set you. Any other explosions in this class will result in some very severe deductions of points. I am already taking fifty points from Gryffindor, for both Mr. Longbottom's and Miss Black's misdemeanours."

After giving my directions, I pointed my wand at the board and the homework appeared. Then I grabbed Black's arm and, in particularly violent and vengeful state of mind, dug my fingers into the wound. She didn't make a sound – not a whimper, not a whine, not so much as a twitch! I was shocked, although the only evidence of this was a deepening of my sneer. The only indication of her pain was a faint glistening of her eyes, as I locked mine with hers, pulling her in the direction of the hospital wing. She stumbled slightly, but quickly caught up again; she was almost jogging to keep up with my purposefully long strides. As we rounded the staircase on the third floor, I addressed her.

"You are aware, **Miss Black**, that you will have to re-brew the potion tonight during your detention and you will stay until you get it right. I have no idea why you put down the correct ingredient and instead chose to blow up your own potion. Especially considering the fact that, until that point, it was very well-brewed indeed."

She stopped, clearly astonished. I halted myself too, if only to be in a better position to sneer at her.

"Oh yes, I was watching you; don't seem so surprised, Black. I had, after all, just taken Longbottom to the hospital wing, or have you forgotten already? You are so much like your father… and yet, there is also something about you which makes you so very different to him. I don't particularly care to figure it out, but rest assured I will ensure you are treated no better than you deserve."

She blinked slowly, her blue eyes once again meeting mine, hinting at a power far stronger than I would have expected from anyone other than the boy-who-lived, the golden child of Gryffindor. Thus far, Potter appeared every bit as spoilt and pampered as his father.

"Professor, everyone knows a talent for potions is a Slytherin trait, just as Gryffindors are supposedly good at transfiguration, or Hufflepuffs with charms. Had I shown the others my aptitude, I'd most likely be ostracised from my house."

Her annoying grin returned with the cockiness she knew I expected.

"I am actually rather confident in my abilities. It's just that I am also willing to do whatever necessary to ensure my success. Now, if we could continue to the hospital wing? My arm hurts quite a bit, and your grip really isn't helping."

Her tone sharpened at that last part. Reluctantly, I loosened my grip; no sooner had my fingers left her arm, then she had yanked it away. In the light of the nearby window, I could see the faint discolouration of a bruise on her wrist, along with several nail marks. She must have seen me glaring at the marks because she turned her arm out of view.

"Don't worry, Professor, I bruise very easily. Always have, and probably always will. Granted, your grip was a bit tighter than necessary, but I'll take that as added punishment for the whole 'Professor Snape is the voice of God' thing."

She started walking up the next flight of stairs and veered off into a wrong hallway. I grabbed her by the uninjured arm and forcefully steered her along the correct path. She hardly seemed to notice, as her focus seemed to be on a spot above the burn on her arm. This hopefully meant she would keep quiet; her whole attitude was extremely grating, reminding me forcibly of that damned guardian of hers. Yet the words came unbidden from a memory of my seventh year, memories of a similar blotchy scar on the forearm of one of my dorm mates.

'**Honestly, Severus. It was my first year and I made a mistake. The reason it looks like part of a handprint is because my professor was a bit… enthusiastic on the first three flights of stairs. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't burn his hand.' **It was a female's voice, but I couldn't remember who she was. Oh, wait, she had been a time traveller… Alexis Collins, with her friend Evan Barnes. Something about the two of them was agonisingly familiar to me, yet it hung just out of my reach. I chanced another look at the girl wandering to my side; she was still lost in thought, no doubt planning a long, drawn out injury report to tell Remus Lupin. A red outline of small blisters was appearing in the vague outline of my hand.

This batch of Gryffindor first years looked likely to be worse than the last lot – a group of the normal incompetent children with an impossibly incompetent one thrown in. A **know-it-all**, a **celebrity**, another **Weasley** and **Black**, who had the appearance of her father and yet wished to fade into the background. If she had a talent for potions, then there was no need to melt cauldrons in **my classroom **unless she wanted to make a nuisance of herself. If she wanted to make a nuisance of herself, she could do so in her own Head of House's classroom, instead of mine.

I heard the bell ring; students began to flood the halls. I smirked, seeing the older ones kept their distance from me. I fixed my glare on Black again and slapped her hand away from her arm, where she had been trying to pop one of the blisters.

"Don't pop them, you silly girl. That will cause you more pain and scarring! Or is that your aim? So that you can prove I've mishandled you, and show your guardian?" Malice dripped from every word, as I ranted, "because I assure you that I will not stand for it. You may look and act just like your father, but we will not have a repeat of my Hogwarts years. I am still **your** professor."

She stopped and whirled on me, eyes blazing with anger. It was the reaction I had expected, but her words gave me a chill.

"How dare you accuse me of being like that murderer? I hate him, and I will not have you compare me to that freak! It makes me sick to think I'm related to him. So in future, leave him out of it, **Professor**."

She turned and walked into the hospital wing, leaving the door ajar. I stood in the doorway, waiting, as Poppy came out of her office.

"Miss Black, what happened to your arm?"

I saw Black catch Poppy's eyes before murmuring, "It was just a potions accident, Madam Pomfrey. Can you fix it?"

Her tone was soft and polite, innocently curious. I scowled deeply. She met my eyes, and I had to stifle a gasp as I saw that her eyes were devoid of all emotion. She blinked quickly, and the sparkle appeared as quickly as it had left; Poppy coated the burn with a salve before deftly wrapping it with clean gauze. I scowled again as Potter came up behind me, holding Black's charred robes in his hands.

"At the worst, there will be some mild scarring. It is a minor wound, but I'm afraid the salve is all I can do. Try to avoid putting too much pressure on it, and please come back this evening to get that bandage changed."

Black nodded before skirting passed me and through the door, whispering a charm to repair her robes.

"Miss Black, don't think that your injury will get you out of detention tonight," I called after her, doing my best to ignore the sound of her mocking snort as she pulled on her robes.

"I wouldn't dream of it, professor. I have the feeling that this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship."

With that said, she took her bag from Potter and offered me a sarcastic wave. She dragged a bemused looking Potter around the corner and was thankfully out of my sight.

"Insufferable bloody Gryffindors," I muttered darkly, glaring at the spot Black had so recently vacated. My gaze settled back on Poppy as she cleared her throat.

"Don't give me that look, Severus. I know that what Serenity just told me is not entirely the truth; and I'm perfectly aware that you know it wasn't. Maybe she explained most of what happened, but that little tale doesn't explain why the burn goes around her whole wrist, nor the reason her eyes went blank as she looked at you."

"The burn, Poppy, goes all the way around her wrist because it soaked through the sleeve of her robe. As for why she looked at me so blankly, I can only assume it has something to do with the fact that I mentioned her father and guardian on the way here. That's pure speculation, you realise; I have no wish to know what goes on in her mind."

I looked at the Mediwitch, sure she would not dare to ask another question. Surprisingly, I was wrong.

"And even with her injury, you will have her in detention tonight? Severus, you of all people should know how much pain that particular potion can cause. Especially when brewed incorrectly. It will be at least a week before she can touch her wrist without pain. You should be ashamed of yourself, Severus."

Pinching the bridge of my nose served two purposes: quelling both my irritation and the threatening headache.

"Poppy, this girl is not only a Gryffindor – a fact which disinclines me to give her leave of her deserving detention anyway – but she also happens to be the daughter of Sirius Black. The same Sirius Black who, if you remember correctly, almost got me killed in my fifth year by none other than her guardian!"

"Severus, I know exactly who Miss Black is; in case **you** have forgotten, I delivered her. You cannot blame Serenity or Remus Lupin for what happened in your fifth year. You've seen her every month when you deliver Remus' potions, and has she ever had so much as a scratch on her?"

Poppy was right, a fact which pained me to admit even to myself. There was always the possibility that he had slipped healing potions into her drinks, but I knew Lupin was far too honest too cover his mistakes that way.

"Now don't you go inventing conspiracy theories, Severus. Remus Lupin would no more put a healing potion in Serenity's drinks than you would let go of these schoolboy grudges of yours."

Poppy Pomfrey clearly had me worked out; we'd known each other too many years.

"Besides, who else would take her in? The Weasleys have too many people in their house as it is, and her other Godparents are dead. The only other relatives she has are the Malfoys – and we all know how she'd end up if she went to live with them! So tell me, Severus, who else is there? You?"

I gave her the full force of my glare, turned on my heel and strode from the room.

At exactly eight o'clock, Black knocked on my door. I looked up from the stack of essays I was marking and unlocked the door with a flick of my wand.

"Enter."

The door opened slowly and she stepped into the room, the door swinging shut behind her. She spun to face it, obviously startled; I smirked inwardly, pleased to see her uneasiness. I let her wait; finishing the essay I was currently marking, before looking up at her. She at least had the decency to look ashamed. I pointed at the desk directly in front of my own.

"Sit."

She followed the command, fidgeting slightly under my scrutiny. I gestured towards the board with my wand, and she followed my gaze, her eyes flickering over the sentence she was to copy.

"I will not tell first years that Professor Snape is the voice of God," she repeated. "Interesting."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm glad you think so, Black, because you will be copying it one hundred times. Begin."

I went back to marking the essays before me, pausing every so often to award her a glare. Impudent girl, she really was so much like her father


	2. Chapter 1b

Chapter 1: Number 138, I will not tell first years that Professor Snape is the voice of God (part two)

Year one

Serenity's POV

I walked through Diagon Alley, as I'd done hundreds of times before. Although I appeared to be alone, I was well aware that I wasn't; there was always an Auror keeping me within sight – it was Tonks this time. Despite not always being able to locate them, I knew they were always there. My uncle was friends with several Aurors; most of them let me be and just keep an eye out, but there was one in particular who tried to play a more active role in my wellbeing: an Auror called Moody. It wasn't so bad though, especially when I was on the run from him; a little exercise never hurt anybody.

I slipped into Flourish and Blotts to buy a book that Uncle Remus had requested, as well as picking up one which caught my interest; I had already bought most of my school supplies, bar some more quills and my school robes. On my way back down Diagon Alley I caught sight of a blonde woman with green eyes and large glasses. She was watching me from the edge of a group of people I didn't recognise. I knew it was Tonks but I didn't try to avoid her, knowing that she trusted me; if it had been Moody, I would have led him a merry dance up and down Diagon Alley, running off at every chance I got. He didn't trust me one bit and stuck to me like glue, making sure I was always within grabbing distance. Completely lost in my thoughts, I didn't even see the boy in my path until I had accidentally knocked him to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?" I asked, as I reached out a hand to help him up. "I'm Serenity Black, who are you?"

The boy looked around hesitantly. "I'm Harry Potter. You really don't know who I am?" he asked quietly.

I smiled at him and, laughing, said, "Of course I don't know who you are – we've only just met! I mean, I know that you're supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding world, but that's about it. Are you starting Hogwarts this year, too?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but I'm not sure what to expect… I grew up around people who don't like magic."

"Muggles tend to be like that," I said knowingly. "They hate what they don't understand. What shop are you heading to?"

Harry pulled out a list, looking around him; the crowd dwarfed the small boy. "Madam Malkin's, but I don't know where it is, do you?"

I was slightly taller than Harry, but still much smaller than the crowd around us. However, having dragged Moody around Diagon Alley so often, I had good knowledge of the area, so I guided Harry towards the store. On our way, we passed an offshoot from the cobbled street.

"You don't ever want to go down there, Harry. That's Knockturn Alley, and it's full of evil wizards and witches."

We hurried past and soon found ourselves in front of a shop front bearing the name Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. I opened the door and stepped inside, my eyes immediately falling on a blond boy.

"Malfoy. What a surprise," I said dryly.

My cousin looked up and sneered, "Well, well, Black. I see that godfather of yours wouldn't even come to help his charge pick out her supplies."

I smirked. "And just where are your parents? I'm sure they're worried about where their only heir's disappeared to."

Harry stepped out from behind me and Draco's gaze immediately focused on him.

"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Draco put out his hand to shake and Harry took it hesitantly, glancing at me before he did so. Draco left the shop, turning at the door to give me a superior smirk before finally going on his way. He couldn't have missed the glare I shot at him.

"Well, **that** was an ordeal," I muttered darkly.

Madam Malkin fluttered over and ushered Harry onto a stool, setting her tape measure to work. Harry looked very bewildered but just stood still, saying nothing. Once Madam Malkin had finished, she turned to me.

"I assume you're here to pick up your robes, Miss Black?" she asked, before turning back to Harry, who was still standing on the stool looking faintly shell shocked. "You can come down now, Mister Potter."

Harry stepped down, a slight blush spreading over his face. I giggled.

"Yes, I am here for my robes," I said, remembering myself.

Madam Malkin flicked her wand and a bundle of robes levitated into my arms. I thanked her and bought some more hair ribbons, and then her attention turned to Harry again, who was now paying for his own robes.

I always felt a bit guilty buying things like hair ribbons; I did need some more, but I knew that money was tight and I should be more careful. Don't get me wrong, uncle Remus and I aren't poor like the Weasleys are, but we do have a hard time making ends meet – we've never had as much money as Harry or Draco. My uncle has a condition which makes it hard for him to find steady work. I get an allowance, but the inheritance money in the Gringotts vault won't become mine until I come of age. Money isn't that important to me, though; I know my uncle loves me and that's all that matters. Besides, he's all I've got for family since my father left. I don't know what happened there, just that one day he was gone. It bothers me, but I do understand it: why stay in a place you don't want to be just because of a responsibility you don't want to have? Love is definitely more important than money. The Weasleys have so much love between them that not having much money doesn't matter. Mrs. Weasley and Bill came to our house once; uncle Remus was sick and Tonks was on an important assignment, so Mrs. Weasley made dinner while Bill played checkers with me. They were both such lovely people.

A slight tug on my sleeve brought me back to the present. I gave a start and realised Harry was looking at me quizzically. I felt a blush start to spread across my face and gave a small laugh to hide my embarrassment.

"Sorry about that, Harry, I was miles away. Where to next?"

"Well, I'm done, so we can go wherever you haven't been yet or we could go and meet Hagrid."

"Getting my robes was the last thing on my list, so why don't we go and see Hagrid?"

Harry nodded and started out of the shop, checking that I was following before stepping out into Diagon Alley. The street was only marginally less crowded than before, and I quickly fell into step with Harry, keeping only about six inches between his right shoulder and my left. There wasn't far to go, however, as a booming voice soon hailed us from further up the street.

"'Arry!" The voice called loudly.

Standing on our tiptoes, we could see the large form of Hagrid waving at us. Harry took off at a run towards the half-giant, and I followed, although at a slower jog. I hung back and watched the two reunite, until Hagrid's attention was drawn to me.

"Who's yer friend 'Arry?"

I gave a small wave as Harry introduced me.

"This is Serenity Black." Hagrid's eyes hardened at the mention of my last name, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Black, eh?" he said. "Well, it's nice to meet yeh. Any **friend** of 'Arry's is a friend o' mine. So long as yeh treat 'im right."

I forced a laugh. "Treat him right? What kind of person do you take me for? I'm going to turn on him or use him for his fame, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not like that!"

As I finished, a hand grasped my shoulder. I turned to see the blonde woman from earlier, now with Tonks' face. "Hello, Tonks. Time to go, right?"

She nodded and took my hand in hers, greeting Harry and Hagrid quietly, before preparing to disapparate.

"I'll see you on the first, Harry," I said. "Bye." Then, with a crack, Tonks and I were gone.

"Did you have a nice trip?"

The question came just as the spinning stopped. I didn't even need to look up to know who had asked it – the voice was unmistakeably uncle Remus'. I smiled and nodded my reply, then flopped into a chair and removed my robes, revealing the jeans and pale blue t-shirt I was wearing underneath. I handed Remus the book he had wanted; it was something to do with namesakes, though why he'd be interested in that was beyond me. Aunt Tonks leaned over and said something to Remus, before saying her goodbyes and apparating away.

"Yeah, it was good," I said, in reply to the earlier question. "I met a new friend, Harry Potter. He's nice."

Looking at the spot from which Tonks had just apparated, I contemplated my family situation. Tonks wasn't really my aunt, just like Remus wasn't really my uncle, but I thought of them as my family nonetheless. Tonks was my dad's cousin, or something like that, and Remus was my godfather. I love them both, especially Remus; he's the only constant I really have in life, even though he gets sick a lot.

The news about meeting Harry Potter must have finally sunk in, as Remus raised an eyebrow and looked shocked. I ran a hand through my dark brown, almost black, hair and grinned widely. "So, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

September 1st came around a lot more quickly than I expected it to, my birthday – August 28th – coming and going with rapid speed as well.

"Now, don't let the older students intimidate you, and listen to the prefects and to your teachers because they are there to help you…" Uncle Remus was rambling, as he had done the whole journey to Kings Cross. I stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Relax, uncle Remus," I grinned, brushing my hair from my face and crossing my arms. "They couldn't intimidate me if they tried."

He laughed lightly, amber eyes brightening. "I can believe that. But still behave, and don't stop your reading."

I just looked at him, sure that he could read the message in my eyes: I know, I know. Then I turned and walked towards the Hogwarts Express, dragging my trunk behind me. Remus called my name when I was about halfway there.

"No matter what house you get into, I'm proud of you."

The words froze me, and I dropped my trunk and ran back over to him, burying my face in his chest as I hugged him. I reminded myself not to cry and pushed back away from him. I gave him a quick smile and hurried onto the train with my trunk, closing my eyes as I boarded, trying to dispel all remnants of the tears that had blurred my vision. The whistle sounded the moment I reopened my eyes.

"Now, where to sit… where to sit…" I mumbled to myself, as I walked along the corridors, looking in on compartments already filled with people. One compartment was almost empty and I stopped to look inside.

"Harry!" I exclaimed, opening the compartment door. "Harry, would it be alright if I sat with you? I don't really know anyone else well."

"Yeah, I don't mind. I didn't actually think I'd see you again – there are so many students here."

"Thank you," I replied, smiling happily. I tugged my trunk into the compartment and struggled to get it on the shelf. Just as I sat down, a woman with a food trolley came in and asked if we wanted anything. I purchased some chocolate frogs, a pumpkin pasty and a small box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, and settled into a corner of the compartment.

"I'm Serenity Black, by the way… you are?" I introduced myself, carefully slitting a chocolate frog wrapper and gripping the thrashing frog tightly, preventing it from bouncing around the compartment. In doing so, I almost missed the look of disbelief and anger that crossed the redheaded boy's face briefly.

"Why does everyone keep looking at me like that whenever I introduce myself?" I demanded.

"Well, your dad…" the boy trailed off.

I took the moment to interject. "My dad left a long time ago. I live with my uncle. What's your name?"

He looked at me, ears turning red. "Ron… Ron Weasley," he muttered, and turned back to Harry.

As they resumed their conversation on wizarding cards, I dug a book from my trunk: J.R.R. Tolkien's 'The Hobbit'. I was aware that this wasn't the usual reading material for an eleven year old, but I had inherited my uncle's love of books. As I opened the book to my marked page, I looked out of the window. Rolling hills, lush green grass and plenty of trees met my view, reminding me strongly of the setting in the Shire.

"You want any?" Harry asked, bringing me from my reverie. He was holding out handfuls of sweets.

"No, thanks, I've got my chocolate," I declined.

I had just focused back on my book when another boy entered the compartment.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?"

I shared a look with Harry and Ron, and we shook our heads in unison.

The boy started to wail. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

Harry smiled comfortingly. "He'll turn up. He can't have gone far."

"Yes, well, if you see him…" the boy finished lamely and backed out of our compartment, giving a miserable sniffle.

I concentrated on my book once more, pushing aside Ron's talk of a rat named Scabbers. A bit further into the adventures of Bilbo Baggins, the door slid open once more. The boy who had lost his toad was back, but he had brought a girl already in her Hogwarts robes with him. The girl had bushy brown hair, far from my sleek, dark hair, which was tied back with a blue ribbon. The girl also had big teeth and a bossy demeanour. **Fun**, I thought sarcastically.

"Have you seen a toad?" she asked. "Neville's lost one."

Her eyes darted quickly to Ron's battered looking wand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Well, let's see it then."

Ron cleared his throat and gave the wand a weak flick. "Sunshine daisies, butter mellow; turn this stupid, fat rat yellow," he recited. Nothing happened, not a twitch, sparkle or ripple of colour.

I shook my head, smiling slightly, and tuned out the girl, who was now blabbering away. I put the marker back into my book, curled up and closed my eyes. I barely caught the girl's name – Hermione Granger – and heard Harry introducing me, before I fell asleep.

I was sorted into Gryffindor, like my uncle had been. Harry, Ron, Neville and that Granger girl became Gryffindors as well, whilst my cousin Draco was sorted into Slytherin. I wasn't at all surprised at that. The feast was delicious; and we were told to stay away from the third floor corridor, which stirred my curiosity. The most interesting thing to happen during the feast was that I put my plan into action – the Plan to Torture Severus Snape. I had met him once or twice before, and we didn't hit it off, to say the least. I asked Harry to give the Potions Master an adoring look, whenever he could, and he agreed, saying he didn't like the look of the hook-nosed, greasy-haired professor any more than the rest of us.

The first potions lesson came around far too quickly for my liking, and we all duly entered the room and found our seats. I sat to the right of Harry, an enthusiastic Hermione and rather lacklustre Ron behind us. I barely noticed the start of the lecture, being far too busy imagined Snape's reaction to Harry's worshipping gazes. It didn't matter; I knew already that I was good at potions, although Professor Snape didn't. I wanted to keep it that way – Potions was a Slytherin subject; Transfiguration was the Gryffindor one. I knew I needed to work on my poker face, though, because I couldn't help looking up every so often and giggling. I think that's what brought him to the table Harry and I shared.

"Potter." Harry jumped and looked at Snape, his face bearing an expression of worship, as though he was looking at a God.

**Perfect**, I thought happily, laughing at Harry's expression. Then I caught sight of the way Hermione was dancing in her chair, so desperate to answer the question and prove herself, and laughed harder, although I tried to hide it.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?" Snape asked.

Hermione's hand shot up, as planned, and I had to try harder to contain my laughter. My laugh was always so easily identified – it was loud, for a start, but it also had a hint of a bark in it.

"I don't know, sir," Harry replied, the admiring look still on his face. It was absolutely perfect. Harry was doing a wonderful job.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Tut, tut. **Fame** clearly isn't **everything**."

Snape kept glancing past us and I knew that Hermione was trying to get his attention.

"Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir."

I could almost feel the disgust dripping off Snape. Not that he was trying to disguise it; if he was, he was doing a terrible job.

"Thought you wouldn't even open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

The ensuing silence was interrupted by Hermione's chair scraping the floor, her desire to answer the questions still apparent.

"What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Harry's eyes lost their admiration and narrowed instead. I couldn't help but think that was a bad move.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though. Why don't you ask her?" His tone was even and low, surprising me.

I burst into laughter at Harry's words, unrestrainedly letting my bark-like laughter loose. Some of the other Gryffindors were laughing around us, albeit with nervous caution, but I paid them no heed.

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione, who was standing by that point.

Hermione sat down instantly, fear etched on her face, and the rest of the class fell silent, although I still couldn't hold back my giggles. Snape turned and fixed his smouldering, onyx black eyes on me. It was obvious that I had been successful in making him mad.

"And you," he said, "keep quiet unless you have something to say. At this time, the appropriate response would be the answers to my questions. Considering your choice in **guardians**, you should know the answer to at least one of them."

I froze, the laughter dying in my throat. My blue eyes became as cold as arctic ice, and I narrowed them at him.

"Asphodel and wormwood create the Draught of the Living Death, which is the strongest sleeping potion known to wizard kind. A bezoar comes from the stomach of a goat and is an antidote to most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are easy – they're the same thing, more commonly referred to as aconite." I answered, my voice unwavering. "And another thing, **Professor**, don't insult uncle Remus. Oh, and before you asked, I told Harry – that's his name, and it wouldn't hurt you to use it – that you were the voice of God. It was a good joke."

I held his gaze, defiant, yet complacently expecting a slow death, or at least detention. What I didn't anticipate was Snape addressing the whole class.

"Her answers are correct, so write them down. As for you, Black, you shall report here at 8pm sharp. Bring your quill."

I almost laughed at the predictability of the detention.

The class only had two minor explosions. Neville – the toad boy – added his powdered pixie wings too early and the potion exploded, covering him with large, red boils. Professor Snape took him to the hospital wing. I turned my attention back to the potion Harry and I were brewing. I had done most of it, as Harry was talking to Ron, trying to work out why he didn't understand it. I knew Snape wouldn't praise our potion, even if it was right, so I couldn't see any point in exposing myself as someone who didn't belong in Gryffindor. I put down the Chizpurfle Carapaces and picked up some frog's tongue pieces instead, dropping them into the potion and shielding my face with my sleeve. I felt the heat of the potion penetrate my robes and burn my skin, covering my arm in bright red, painful welts. It hurt like hell, but I wasn't going to show it. I shrugged off my outer robe, revealing the short-sleeved jumper and much-hated skirt. Then I turned around to find Professor Snape standing there. I held my arm out, and it just so happened that his shoe was beneath it; drops of potion fell from my outstretched arm and onto his shoe, along with the pus and blood that was now leaking from my damaged arm. He flicked his wand and the remainder of the potion disappeared.

"Professor," I said quietly, "I think I need to go to the infirmary."

That was the understatement of the year; I'm pretty sure the entire class knew I needed to go to the infirmary.

"Finish and bottle your potions, placing them on my desk. I expect everyone's will be finished shortly. Then clean out your cauldrons and make a start on your homework. Any other explosions will result in an extreme deduction of your house points. I am already deducting fifty points from Gryffindor for both Mr. Longbottom's and Miss Black's explosions." With a flick of his wand, the homework appeared on the board – fifteen inches on how not to cause your potion to explode. Just perfect.

He grabbed my arm, fingers digging into the blistering, red wound. **That hurts, you know**, I thought, forcing my face to remain normal. He would probably have used the pain against me, if he knew. Twisting around, he pulled on my arm in such a way that indicated I would lose it if I didn't follow him. He dragged me from the room and unsolicited tears found their way to the corners of my eyes. I was sure they wouldn't fall, but I still tried to hide them as best I could. He gave my arm a sharp tug and I had to jog slightly to keep up with him. Finally, on the third floor stairway, he spoke to me.

"You are aware, Miss Black, that you will re-brew the potion tonight during your detention. You will be staying until you get it right. I haven't the slightest idea why you put down the correct ingredient and instead caused your potion to blow up…"

I stopped abruptly, shock evident on my face.

**How could he know? He must have seen,** I thought, worriedly. If anyone knew that I was a decent potions brewer, and at my age, things could only go from bad to worse with Snape. **What should I do? What can I do?**

"Oh, yes, I was watching you. Don't seem so surprised, Black. I had, after all, just taken Longbottom to the hospital wing, or have you forgotten already? You are so much like your father… and yet, there is also something about you which makes you so very different to him. I don't particularly care to figure it out, but rest assured I will ensure you are treated no better than you deserve."

He had crossed a line there. I drew myself up and shot him the most fearsome glare in my repertoire. **How dare he say something like that?** I asked myself angrily. Pushing the anger back and assuming a calm and collected demeanour took a lot of energy, but I managed it.

"Professor, you must know that a talent for brewing potions is a Slytherin trait. It's just like the idea that Gryffindors are good at Transfiguration, and Ravenclaws at Charms. I don't want to show any abnormality in front of the others – I'd most likely be ostracised from my house!"

My grin found its way back onto my face, and I folded my arms as best I could with my injury. I was enjoying tormenting Snape.

"I am actually quite confident in my Potions abilities. It's just that I am also willing to do whatever necessary to ensure my success. Now, if we could continue to the hospital wing? My arm hurts quite a bit, and your **grip** really isn't helping."

My tone sharpened at that and he soon loosened his grasp. As soon as I could, I pulled my arm away from him and held it almost gingerly with my other hand, looking at it in the light. A bruise was already beginning to form, and small blisters in the outline of his handprint had appeared. I looked up and caught him staring at my arm, so I shifted it out of the light quickly.

"Don't worry, professor. I bruise very easily. I always have, and probably always will. Granted, your grip was a bit tighter than necessary, but I'll take that as added punishment for the whole 'Professor Snape is the voice of God' thing."

I started walking up the stairs and apparently turned down the wrong hallway, as my uninjured arm was grabbed and I was pulled roughly in the other direction. I was staring at my arm, so Snape probably thought I didn't notice – I did, but I didn't care. I think I deserved a bit of rough treatment after almost blowing up the classroom. After a few more moments, the bell rang, signalling the end of class. Students swarmed around us, but most of them avoided Snape like the plague and subsequently avoided me by association. It was fine by me, though; it meant I wouldn't get shoved around and further aggravate my injury. I reached over and prodded one of my blisters with a finger, earning a glare and reprimand from Snape.

"Don't pop them; it will only cause you more pain and scarring. Or is that what you're intending? Then you'll have a way to prove I mishandled you. Your pathetic guardian would love that."

I just glowered at him.

"I assure you that I will have none of it. Just because you look like your father and apparently act like him, it does not mean we will have a repeat of my Hogwarts years while I am still **your **professor."

I froze, whirling around and locking my eyes with his. My voice was as cutting as a million shards of ice.

"How dare you accuse me of being like that abandoner? I hate him, and I will not have you compare me to that freak! It makes me sick to think I'm related to someone who would just leave their child. So in future, leave him out of it, **Professor**. The only people I think of as family are Tonks and uncle Remus."

I turned and strode into the infirmary, leaving the door jar. I was still fuming, but I swallowed it as best I could, turning to face Madam Pomfrey as she came out from her office.

"Miss Black, what happened to your arm?"

Her eyes latched onto mine for a moment, before I murmured quietly and somewhat sheepishly, "It was just a potions accident, Madam Pomfrey. Can you fix it?"

I made sure to keep my tone calm and even slightly curious. I knew Snape was in the room; I could feel his angry, onyx eyes on me. I closed my eyes for a moment and turned my head towards him; when I opened my eyes they were devoid of all emotion and feeling. I saw him give an odd twitch, like he was flinching away from me or something. Then I blinked again and let the emotions and feelings re-enter my eyes.

Madam Pomfrey covered my arm in a healing salve and wrapped it in clean gauze. Moments later, Harry entered the room, standing behind Snape and holding what I assumed to be my charred robes.

"At the worst there will be some mild scarring. Because it is a minor wound, the salve is all I can do for you. Try to avoid putting too much pressure on it and please come back after dinner to get your gauze changed."

I nodded my acquiescence, slipping around Snape and following Harry to the door. With a smile, I took my robes from Harry and repaired them with a charm.

"Miss Black," came a voice from behind me, "don't think that your injury will get you out of your detention tonight."

I smirked, slipping on my robe. The bandage hardly showed beneath the sleeve.

"I wouldn't dream of it, professor. I have the feeling that this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship."

With that, I took my bag from Harry and took his arm. I walked off, dragging Harry lightly, before he got the hint and started walking. Harry kept looking over his shoulder at Snape every so often. I turned and gave the potions master a small wave before I turned the corner with Harry.

"Come on, Harry. Transfiguration awaits us."

I had another plan forming already.

I left the common room at around 7:45pm, knowing that the staircase wasn't far away and it wouldn't take long to get to the dungeons and the potions room. I still left plenty of time to drag my feet, though; I'm not terribly fond of the dungeons because they're a bit too cold and clammy for my liking.

It was close to 8 o'clock when I knocked on the door, although I didn't know the exact time. I was hoping I was on the early side – being late for detention with Snape would surely make it all the more miserable.

"Enter."

I opened the door and stepped cautiously inside. The door swung shut of its own accord and I whipped around, staring at it for a moment. Then I turned back to face Snape, giving a nervous smile before turning my gaze to the floor.

"Sit," Snape said, indicating the desk directly in front of his.

I complied, but couldn't stop myself fidgeting under his stare. Snape waved his wand and the sentence I was to copy appeared on the board. As I read it over, a faint smirk appeared on my face. I raised an eyebrow.

"'I will not tell first years that Professor Snape is the voice of God,'" I read. "Interesting."

I looked up at Snape to find him glaring at me. I vowed to myself to keep the smirk in place.

"I am glad you think so, Black, because you will be copying it one hundred times. Begin."

I looked at the parchment in front of me and shook my head, before drawing my quill and ink from my pocket. I gave a small smile, knowing full well that this was highly unlikely to be my last set of lines to write out in the dungeons.

AN: Sorry that took so long guys. I got it done pretty quickly (for me anyways) and the big time thing was getting it back from the beta. Anyways, 3

Btw, check my profile for my livejournal link. It'll keep you updated on my story progressions and such.


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